Hold Your Breath
by queenmycroft
Summary: Written for a prompt at the Kink Meme. John has the hiccups, and Sherlock simply must cure him.


"John-" Sherlock began just as his flatmate raised a mug of tea to his lips. Sighing, John placed the mug reluctantly back on the counter and looked sternly at the wall.

"What?"

John heard a rustle of paper to his right – another case file, no doubt – and tapped his foot impatiently. All he wanted after his long day at the surgery was one soothing cuppa, not yet another battle of wits with his increasingly stir crazy flatmate.

"Do not drink that tea."

John started, drawing his brows together and his lips into a purse. "Why, Sherlock? What have you done to it? You must have studied the dissolution rates of arsenic compounds in black tea half a dozen times since Sunday! What the bloody hell have you done to my tea – in my mug – in the mug I specifically labeled 'Experiment Free'!" John waved the aforementioned cup in Sherlock's direction, huffing with frustration as tea sloshed over the side and onto the floor. Breathing heavily, he stalked towards Sherlock, who still sat leaning against the couch, looking decidedly unruffled.

Sherlock didn't look up as he turned a page of the file, but enunciated very clearly "I didn't do anything to the tea John. You shouldn't drink it because you will get hiccups."

"What, so you can predict diaphragm contractions now? Sherlock, I've had a long day, I just want a cuppa." A hint of desperation came into john's voice, but to no end. Sherlock seemed unfazed as John stalked back to the kitchen.

"The correct term is myoclonus, John, and the activity level your midsection has seen today combined with the raw cauliflower you ate a half hour ago, as well as the speed with which you are likely to throw back that tea all lead me to conclude that you will begin a session of vicious myoclonus within the hour. But don't feel obligated to take my word, do as you please – just do keep it down, I am trying to think."

John snorted as he tilted the mug toward his mouth and was granted the first taste of his most favorite tea. He could feel his muscles uncoiling already, and he sighed happily. Sherlock had fallen off his game – hiccups, honestly.

Fifteen minutes later, they struck. John had just set down his empty mug and settled on the couch for some mind-numbing telly, when the hiccups began – stronger and, embarrassingly, louder than he had had since he was a child. Sighing, he slid down the armrest and onto his back, a trick that sometimes helped the tamer cases. Unfortunately, with this particular session, laying prone on the couch only made John feel vaguely ill, and worsened the situation so that his stomach was beginning to ache. As he shifted back to a sitting position, a louder-than-average hiccup slipped past his lips before he could control it, and just the thought of swallowing the sound made him feel a bit queasy. He side-eyed Sherlock, knowing that he was in for it now.

Sherlock just flipped another page. "It's okay, John. I did tell you it would happen, but this file is preposterously boring, so your hiccups aren't imposing too terribly." The consolation seemed to have come with great effort, so John nodded appreciatively.

With another loud gasp, John felt the tips of his ears go red with embarrassment, and slowly moved his legs to the side of the couch, with the intention of getting a glass of water. John felt a dull throb in his temple as he stood, and as soon as he was on his feet his body crashed to the ground. Fearing for a moment that he had lost feeling in his legs, John looked down his body and found the cause of his fall. Sherlock had hooked his elbow around John's ankle to trip him up, and as John lay confused upon the carpet, Sherlock crawled over to inspect his face.

"Sherlock, what the bloody – hic – hell was that for?"

"Blast!" Sherlock lept to his feet and ran his hand through his hair. "I thought it would work – short sharp shock! Oh well, there must be some other way to fix you."

John scowled and began to pick himself off of the floor. "So you thought the best way to shock my system was to make me fall on my face?" John just shook his head and made his way to the kitchen. Leaning heavily on the countertop, he filled a glass and began to drink – slowly. He had closed his eyes against the bright lights and his now full-blown headache when he heard Sherlock's voice form close by.

"Try drinking it upside-down."

"What?"

"Upside-down, like this," Sherlock said impatiently, manhandling John so that he was bent over the sink, the rim of the glass around his chin and bottom lip. John's curses were muffled as Sherlock unceremoniously poured the water into his mouth. Once John had a grip on the glass, Sherlock backed away and said sharply "Drink like that until the glass is empty."

John rolled his eyes before doing as Sherlock said, taking slow mouthfuls of water for a solid five minutes. When John turned to face Sherlock, they were both grinning.

"Hey, I think it – hic." This time John doubled over, and a surprisingly concerned Sherlock rushed to his side.

"John? Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, Sherlock, it's just a case of bloody hiccups, Jesus." John brushed past Sherlock, and hiccupped all the way back to the sofa. Soon enough, Sherlock followed with a small jar of what looked like sugar, but could be anything from anthrax to baby formula.

Taking a teaspoon out of the jar, Sherlock scoffed. "It's just sugar, John, don't be absurd. Let me place it on the back of your tongue."

"What? No!"

"John, I am certain this will work. I cannot bear your absurd reaction to cauliflower and tea for another thirty minutes. This ends now."

"Sherlock, I don't need to you to take care of me."

"No, I need me to, so that I can think." Sherlock seemed reasonably uncomfortable, but determined nevertheless. "Now open your mouth."

John, now fiercely humiliated, opened his mouth as Sherlock dropped the sweet sugar onto the back of his tongue. John swallowed, and waited a few moments for the hiccups' inevitable return.

John cringed when another gasp passed his lips, and Sherlock grew increasingly frustrated.

"John, this is bothersome! You must be in mint condition and cease this ridiculous practice immediately! Did you know that incurable hiccups can be a sign of countless sudden or chronic illnesses? Did you know that they are impossibly irritating? What else is there to do – quick, try to swallow air! Hold your breath! Hyperventilate – no, wait, don't – cough, plug your ears –"

As Sherlock rattled off any possible cure he had ever heard or read, John simply rolled his eyes and hiccupped with increasing frequency. Sherlock's stress began to rub off, and somewhere around "think of every bald man you can," John decided to tune him out. Closing his eyes and ears to the world, he focused only on breathing and not losing his temper with his body or Sherlock's mind.

It was for this reason that John nearly jumped out of his own skin with surprise when Sherlock swooped in and captured his lips, stopping his most recent hiccup in its tracks. Slowly, Sherlock placed his knees on the couch, in between John's, and pressed his chest against John's, reveling in the sudden stillness of it. After a full minute, Sherlock pulled his face away, and looked curiously down at John.

"Intriguing," he said finally. "That this would surprise you more than me purposefully tripping you and thus causing you even mild pain is extraordinarily telling in regards to your perception-"

"Shut up, you daft man. You got the hiccups to stop, what does it matter. I could kiss you for days just for that." John breathed a sigh of relief.

It was Sherlock's turn to look surprised. "And everything else?" The redness returned to John's ears, but he didn't break eye contact.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." To prove his point, John settled back against the couch cushions, and allowed Sherlock to fall back on top of him.

"I must admit, John, when your diaphragm isn't causing me multiple levels of distress, your company can be quite tolerable."

"Hey now, go easy on any more surprises tonight, Sherlock – I'm not sure I can take it," but John was smiling.

Sherlock settled his head below John's chin, and his hand over his now-calm chest. After barely ten minutes, Sherlock felt John's breath evening as he slowly fell asleep.

Of course, Sherlock thought as he felt John awaken around three in the morning, when things seem too good to be true –

John's chest rose quickly off the sofa, and the hiccup echoed loudly in the dark room.

Sighing, Sherlock climbed reluctantly off the couch, shouting back at John "I'll go get the sugar. You start listing – you can start with Angelo."


End file.
